AllFreeNovel
Share Us
What do I have to lose? I need to know what happened to Abel. I have to know what became of my friend. I have to know he didn’t just up and leave me. After my mother’s death I never thought I would meet anyone who would love me just for me and then I met Abel. I have to know what happened.
Without thinking further, I enter my number into his phone. I watch Michael let out a relieved breath and I feel a kinship to him. He obviously cares a lot about Abel, something we have in common. He’s the key to getting answers, to maybe actually hearing my friend’s voice or seeing his face again.
“I can call you when you get off. Maybe—”
“No. Just …” I run my hands over my hair, probably ruining my ponytail, and shake my head. “I’ll give you my address and I can meet you down the block. You won’t … hurt me, right?”
His eyes take on that sad look again as he stands up and straightens his hoodie. It’s straining against his chest and his arms. I have to tell myself that this man is scary, not hot. Although, yeah, he’s actually really hot. But I’m not going there with him. I need answers, then he can go on his way.
I shake myself as he starts talking again. “I won’t hurt you. Abel would kick my ass. Besides,” he says, reaching out a hand to rub my cheek before I can move back. The touch is gentle and a shiver runs through me that I fight like hell to clamp down. “I don’t want to hurt you, Damon. I would never do that.”
His strident tone startles me a little, but I don’t say anything. I just nod and take my things. “Five minutes are almost up,” I murmur, and he curses, breezing past me.
Before he leaves, he turns to look at me, assessing me in a way that’s a little uncomfortable, but not entirely unwelcome. “You look really good, Damon.” I don’t get a chance to respond. He’s out the door and in the wind before I can get my bearings from the unexpected compliment.
Chapter 6
Damon
Fortherestofthe day, I’m on edge. I go back and forth on whether I made a mistake or if I’m doing the right thing by trying to figure out what happened to Abel. I’m not even sure if I’m owed an explanation. People have friends they lose touch with all the time. If what Michael says is true, Abel didn’t have the chance to tell me what happened, and I don’t fault him for that.
Well, I do a little. I don’t have any other close friends. Abel was it. The one person I thought would be in my corner. Hell, I wanted to ask if I could possibly room with him and Savage so I could get out of my living situation.
If I hear my stepfather tell me one more time that I need to repay him for all the money he forked over for my tuition, I’ll lose my mind. Every paycheck, he has his hand out, taking almost all of it—only leaving me with enough for my car payment, car insurance, gas, and groceries. Which makes up about twenty-five percent of my check. I’ve asked him time and again for the loan information so I can pay it on my own, but after a particular nasty yelling session, where I was almost cowering in the corner by the time he was done, I stopped asking.
I thought I had a way out. I thought I was finally done with being in that house, even though I would have cried leaving the house my mother bought for us.
My mother only asked me for two things before she went to work as a flight attendant and died in a plane crash. She asked me to watch over the house and watch out for James, Fallon, and Conrad. I’ve been trying to do those things but watching out for my evil stepfamily has to be the hardest promise to keep. I keep the house clean and in order, so I’m keeping my promise there.
Leaving the house would have killed me, but I thought I was ready. Then Abel dying seemed like a sign. Like my mother was telling me she was disappointed that I wanted to abandon her husband and his kids when they probably still needed my help. Three years have passed and I’m still listening to that sign, making sure my terrible family has everything they need.
“Mr. Reed,” someone says behind me, making me jump so violently, my glasses almost fall off.
I look up to see my team leader standing over me.
Pushing my glasses up, I turn my chair around to face him. “Yes? Sorry, yes?”
He looks at me quizzically but doesn’t remark on the jump scare. “I was just saying it’s rare for anyone to be here after work is over. Got a project you’re working on?”
Spinning back around to my computer, I see that work let out thirty minutes ago. “Shoot,” I say, grabbing my things and shutting down my computer. “No. I’m all caught up. Just lost track of time. See you in the morning.” Face hot, I slide past him and head to the elevator. As I’m walking, I wonder if the cameras ever got turned back on.
Then I wonder what kind of person can shut down the cameras for an entire building without anyone knowing. Especially a building the size of Velli Corp. Then I remember that Savage used to own this building. All fourteen floors of it, so I’m sure his team knows it like the backs of their hands.
That thought scares me. Michael is dangerous. Anyone who has that much power is scary. But he said he wouldn’t hurt me. For some strange reason, I believe him. Call me a fool, but I do.
I don’t remember the drive home, my mind consumed with what I may learn tonight. I could learn that Abel had something to do with the explosion. Maybe he was involved in something bad.
As soon as I think that, I immediately reject it. Abel was too sweet to be a part of anything criminal on purpose. Everyone knows the Benavelli family was involved in some shady dealings, but I don’t think Abel would have wanted to be involved.
What am I saying? I don’t know him anymore. Did I really know him then? Again, I discount that thought. I knew Abel was involved with Joseph Benavelli the third, but he assured me he had nothing to do with that part of his life. I had no reason not to believe him.
I don’t think that’s changed, just because he … moved on.
I roll my eyes to myself. Moved on sounds like he died, and I just found out he didn’t.
Growling in frustration because I don’t know what to think and because my mind is going in one thousand directions at once, I climb out of my car and head inside the house to relax.
My key isn’t even in the door before it’s thrown open and I’m face to face with Conrad. His light brown face is almost red, and his nostrils are flaring. Before I can dodge him and go to my room, he grasps my arm and pulls me inside. When the door shuts, he pushes me against it, his hands on his hips.
